Month: February 2024

Tatum started a new book today. She just started writing, and in 45 minutes?

THIS IS WHAT SHE WROTE:

     Chapter one 

There is one place that is a separate world, away from siblings and fights, and most importantly away from parents and rules, and Baxter was the first one to go there. 

The sun shone through the shutters. Baxter could feel feet digging into his rib cage, he was used to it. A small face appeared over the heavy woolen blanket. Of course. Baxter’s new foster sister, Akili, always was awake before him, and his siblings. She reached out and pulled the blanket away from him. “Hey, what did you do that for.” He said, trying to reach back for it, but Akili pulled it back further. She was fully dressed. Of course. Baxter reached out to nudge his twin brother. “Wha?” Paxter said startled. “You know who is awake.” “Yep.” Maybe it was the tone in his voice or, maybe it was because Akili was new to the family, but something made Akili yank on Paxter’s arm. 

It wasn’t until their mother called them down for pancakes that Baxter actually talked to Paxter about Akili. “ Baxter you know that Akili is new therefore, we need to be nicer to her.” Baxter stood there. Paxter was right he had always been mean to Akili ever since she got off that plane he treated her as if she was just a fly on the wall that he was trying to kill. 

Mom passed around the pancakes clearly eyeing Baxter, Paxter, and Akili. When she stopped on Baxter she leaned forward and said, “Bud, I know it’s hard being one of 10.” That was it. Was today the guilt trip day? Because Baxter sure felt like it was. 

Baxter reached out to grab his notebook but Akili beat him to it. “ hey!” He shouted clearly annoyed at her. “No.” Baxter was getting furious. “ give it back!” But Akili just strutted off, Baxter chasing after her. When Baxter caught up with her he held out his hand and shouted,” give it back right now!” “Akili!” The name hung out in mid air. Soon the name was met with the voice. Jeremiah! Jeremiah was the oldest at 12 years 

old. All the other siblings were afraid of him because if he saw one sibling being mean to the other sibling he would beat that sibling up then he would get in trouble with their mom but he didn’t care. Baxter had already gotten beat up four times once in the eye once in the stomach once in the head and once in the you know.  And I wasn’t gonna get beaten up again for something that Akili was doing to me. So he quickly backed up but it was no use. Jeremiah kept stepping closer and closer until he was right up to me so close that I could feel his breath on my head. And let me remind you he’s only nine years old. Anyways Jeremiah said something that made him release all his breath that he had been holding, which was,” hey shrimpo little sissy picking on you?” He slowly nodded. “ well, then shrimpo I guess I don’t need to beat you up but I need to beat her up.” He pointed behind him. “Who?” He slowly dared to ask. He turned around. And instead of finding Akili  standing  there crying he saw mom and Akili. Mom‘s face was red with fury. 

I love when she sings in here!

HOLY and GROUNDED IN LOVE.

We come to you thirsty, Lord. We will continue to walk in the light.

Just tonight, Tatum illustrated the POWER of the WORD with her 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 BIBLES as she counted them. Then she proceeded to tell me how could one NOT believe after so many copies/translations/time passed.

We seek your face, Father.

This morning, Monday, we began our new study:
MAKING LEMONADE:

My honey. He’s so good to us. Look how he brightened our home! The entrance is so inviting. It says,”Come in and feel the warmth and comfort of our “HAY”ven.”

Only to begin another wonderful day. Isn’t it so delightfully bright? Like my Taties.

Tatum used to “DREAD” Sunday nights because she knew Monday was school. Now she can’t wait to begin!

Here is our week and some morning directives.

Stay tuned for more.

She took her “tests” this week at Starbucks since I had a previous commitment meeting there with some ladies (sisters in Christ from ENRICH)

I gave her list:

Her first question was for her reflection journa

Reflection 2/23/24

My homeschool experience has changed my life. 

• My teacher is the best teacher ever! 
• My teacher is my best friend. 
• In one day I am learning as much as I learned in a week at school.
• I am not distracted by other people.
• There is a treasure box. 
• Amarillo is my best friend.
• I LOVE OUR CLASSROOM!
• I don’t feel rushed about turning my work in. 
• I’m building my relationship with Mom. 

SMILE. MELT

Math…she’s getting better

The next…this is the assessment I used to give my 8TH GRADERS! And look at her writing just a rough no book used. (from her head)

She was so efficient and focused. She earned her TENTH punch and ability to reach inside the treasure chest.

The joy of playdoh…still at 11 years old.

And as we speak, she still is playing 36 hours later. HER IMAGINATION BLOWS MY MIND.

I’m so proud of your efforts. LOVE BUG!

She’s got the perfect technique for the “FLIP.”

Yes, Coopy…you ‘ll get yours in a minute.

Then, as usual, she loves to walk and talk, and while reading her book. Newest is from Ted Dekker’s Journey series. LOVE!

And…she added to her “Jade” story. LOVING THIS!
…. See the previous day.

This is the next paragraph:

The van jolted to a complete stop. I lunged forward. A stranger named Clyde walked over to my seat. He had a scruffy black beard that was right below the chin. He sat down next to me and pulled out a piece of what looked like candy. He bit off one chunk, chewed, swallowed, then did that over and over as I sat staring at him. When he finished, he swallowed, then took out another piece of candy and slowly handed it to me. I shook my head in disbelief and began to reach out. But Clyde shook his head and swatted my hand away. “Don’t you know not to take food from strangers?” I nodded. His gruff voice sounded very sad sadder than usual. “When I was a boy, one time, a stranger tried to poison me with this ere candy bar. Luckly my ere mama swaed my and away and I was safe.” 

That night ,as I lay in bed, I thought about what Clyde had said to me. I really could’ve been poisoned? Could I have? I pondered that if I really had been poisoned, would that be better than my life now? My conclusion was yes being poisoned would be better than this life. 

The next morning, I woke up at four in the morning. I climbed out of bed, pulled open my curtains, turned on the shower, brushed my teeth, got into the shower ,which at that time, was freezing cold, got dressed, climbed downstairs, opened the cabinet, got out a bowl and spoon, poured cereal into the bowl, opened the fridge, poured the milk into the bowl filled with cereal, sat down, and ate. As I ate my cereal I noticed the newspaper sitting on the table. I pulled it forward and read the headline, Boy Died From Train, I stopped chewing. Because under the headline was the name, Black Morristine, my dead younger brother. 

DUH DUH DUUUUUUUUUH!!!

We love our walls. Our walls say: CREATE! a plethora of my drawings.

In the HAYVEN, we have create, explore, play, shine, learn, imagine, read, and believe.

VERBS are the ACTION of our day! And we live these words out.

OF COURSE all grounded in LOVE.

She has begun to write her book!

But first, Day 2 of HAYVEN Homeschool

Here’s our schedule and her quick write. We always warm up with a read aloud and write.

Here is part 1…first draft.

 On our break, she popped this out!

Prologue

Vans are disgusting and smelly. They are even more disgusting and smelly when you have four people squished against you. This was my life; a very disgusting and smelly van with four strangers digging their elbows into my rib cage. Strangers who know nothing about me and who could be serial killers, and one wrong move and I could be dead. Strangers who have the smelliest farts in the whole entire world. And if you had to be in my shoes, you would be dead in one millisecond. None of them are black people. 

There are usually older people on this van but once in a while, there will be kids my age with parents. Kids who are white. Kids who board onto this van both their mother and father clutching their hands. White kids who stare  me down as if I was dead, and sometimes I wish I was dead. Kids who have a thick, bold accents will never speak to me, and will sit five aisles in front of me. No black people. White kids whose shoes are new and clean Jordans and Nikes.

     Chapter 1: Black 

I’m Black. No,no I’m a White American, my name is Black. Kids at school call me blank, but my name is Black. I had no clue why my mother called me that because I have blue eyes that resemble the ocean, not black eyes and I have brown musty hair, not black hair. 

I love to run. I love to smell the dew on the trees, dripping down, while I race across the fields, being careful not to slip down the slippery slope.  I love to race across dry open fields going full speed while the dirt clings to the souls of my shoes.

I was born into a small family. My older siblings had to work the crops for food and would come home all sweaty and tired. They would bark at me if I sat down funny. 

When I was 12 years old I couldn’t remember my parents. You see I was blind. I wasn’t born blind, in fact I could see up until my tenth birthday. Then I stopped being able to see. It was hard for me to comprehend that I would never be able to see again.  By then I was used to it.  I knew why I was named Black, because then everyone and everything was black.  

About two months before I had had a really bad heart attack which is why I was in the hospital bed lying there my oxygen tank failing. 

I gasped for air. My lungs were failing me. I felt dizzy and nauseous. My heartbeat got faster. Then it stopped. I floated up. I could clearly see my body in the hospital bed. I could see! 

I heard one  of the nurses cry out “the boy is dead.” Was she talking about me? Was I really dead? I could clearly see my body laying there, not moving. I kept lying there, well, not really me more my body kept lying there. I saw my mother. Her face was as red as a cherry from crying. I saw my older brother grasping her arm probably coaxing her. And I saw my sister red-faced her head buried in her hands. Then I saw my adopted sister, Jade, who was black, and who nobody paid attention to. But I didn’t see my dad. My family was all there except my dad. 

Chapter 2

Life continued on. Being black was hard. Especially, here in Applo, Dracton. School was especially hard. My name is Jade. I’m 14 years old. I’m adopted. Losing my little brother was very hard, but I moved on since I had only known him for four weeks. Then I started getting tempted to do wrong things. But there was always one car that I was always in, a smelly and disgusting van. 

I always had to be in it, picking and dropping off strangers. Being squished in the middle next to total complete strangers who could be serial killers. I got made fun of on that van.  I got bullied on that van. I got squished and hurt on that van. And let me tell you something being black is the worst on that van.    

The only wrong things that I could do on that van was try to pickpocket somebody. But my “father” would scold me every single time. One time I actually got away with it but what I got was only some lint. That’s why I think my “father “ didn’t scold me, because he probably couldn’t care less about me stealing lint.            

My favorite show growing up was Thomas the train.  I used to watch it for three hours a day. But my favorite character was Percy. I used to chant, “Percy marry Thomas”, four times a day. But a black three year old wearing a Thomas the train shirt was probably really embarrassing for my mother and father, so at four I stopped watching it. 

MORE TO COME